Born in Bradford, England, January 29, 1862
Died in Grez-sur-Loing, France, June 10, 1934

Frederick Delius is often referred to as “the English Impressionist,” but he was really more cosmopolitan than English. Born of German parents in England as Fritz Théodor Albert Delius, he was destined by his father for the wool business. Finding this distasteful, he emigrated to Florida to work an orange plantation. Here he studied the organ and violin, and began composing. Having determined to make music his career, Delius then undertook several years of study at the Leipzig Conservatory, following which he went to Paris to assimilate its rich cultural life. In 1897, he settled in Grez-sur-Loing, a small village southeast of Paris, where he remained until his death many years later.

Delius’ music is marked by delicacy, restraint, refinement and a colour palette consisting almost exclusively of pastels. Many of his best works are infused with a languid, pastoral beauty, a quality found in both of the exquisite miniatures that constitute his Two Pieces for Small Orchestra (the other is Summer Night on the River). They received their first performances at a London Philharmonic concert led by Willem Mengelberg on January 20, 1914. On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring figured in the NAC Orchestra’s first season, when it was conducted by Mario Bernardi. Tonight’s conductor, Bramwell Tovey, calls Delius “one of my great musical heroes.”

On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring (1912) is a marvel of orchestral restraint. Employing just strings and a small handful of winds (bassoons and horns play in just six and eleven bars respectively), Delius paints an enchanting world of stillness, quietude and poetic contemplation. Soft, caressing airs waft gently as occasional tints of woodwind coloration dot the idyllic landscape. The gentle cuckoo calls are played of course by the clarinet, the same instrument as Beethoven used in his Pastoral Symphony, Respighi in The Birds, Saint-Saëns in The Carnival of the Animals, and Mahler in his First Symphony and the Wunderhorn song “Lob des hohen Verstandes.” As a tribute to Grieg, who had encouraged Delius’ compositional career, and to Norway, where he often spent the summer months, the composer incorporated a Norwegian folk tune I Ola Dalom (In Ola Valley), which Grieg himself had used earlier in No. 14 of his 19 Norwegian Folk Tunes for piano.

Program notes by Robert Markow

Born in Hämeenlinna (Tavastehus), Finland, December 8, 1865
Died in Järvenpää, near Helsinki, September 20, 1957

In 1902, the German violinist Willy Burmester had asked Sibelius to write him a concerto. When Sibelius sent him the piano reduction of the first two movements in September of 1903, Burmester was enthusiastic and suggested the premiere be given in Berlin in March of 1904. But Sibelius had other ideas. Due to strained financial circumstances, he wanted the concerto performed as soon as possible, and secretly asked another violinist to give the premiere in Helsinki at an earlier date. What Sibelius got in the end was a far inferior soloist (a local teacher named Viktor Nováček, who never did learn the concerto properly), a cool reception at the premiere, mostly negative reviews in the press, and the justifiable resentment of Burmester.

Following the premiere, the concerto was put aside for over a year until Sibelius got around to revising it. He toned down some of the overtly virtuosic passages, tightened the structure of the outer movements and altered the orchestration of numerous passages. The revisions amount to far more than mere window dressing, and the results are fascinating to compare with the original.

On October 19, 1905, the concerto received its premiere in the final form in Berlin, with Karl Halíř as soloist and none other than Richard Strauss on the podium. Shortly afterwards, Sibelius’ friend Rosa Newmarch told him that “in 50 years’ time, your concerto will be as much a classic as those of Beethoven, Brahms and Tchaikovsky.” How right she was!

Sibelius’ affinity for the violin stemmed from his youth, when he aspired to become a great violinist. “My tragedy,” he wrote, “was that I wanted to be a celebrated violinist at any price. From the age of fifteen, I played my violin for ten years, practicing from morning to night. I hated pen and ink.… My preference for the violin lasted quite long, and it was a very painful awakening when I had to admit that I had begun my training for the exacting career of an eminent performer too late.” His very first composition (Vattendroppar), written at the age of eight or nine, was a piece for violin and cello. Although he left just one violin concerto, he also composed numerous short pieces for the instrument, mostly with piano.

The solo part is one of the most difficult in the entire repertoire. Virtuosic passages abound, but they are welded to disciplined musical thought; there is no empty display material here. The orchestral writing bears much evidence of Sibelius’ deep interest in this medium, and serves a far greater purpose than a mere backdrop for the soloist. Dark, sombre colours predominate, as is this composer’s tendency, lending an air of passionate urgency to the music. Note particularly the third theme in B-flat minor in the first movement, played by the unison violins, or the second theme of the finale, again played by the violins, with its interplay of 6/8 and 3/4 metres. 

Attention to the formalities of sonata form is largely avoided in favour of originality of thought. In the first movement, there is no development section as such; instead, each of the three main themes is fully elaborated and developed upon initial presentation. A cadenza occurs at the point where a full development would normally stand, followed by a recapitulation of the three themes, each of which is subjected to further expansion. In the Adagio movement, Sibelius contrasts the long, dreamy, reflective opening theme with a turbulent and darkly passionate section in the minor mode. The finale, in rondo form, calls to the fore the full technical prowess of the soloist. Energetic rhythms suggestive of the polonaise and gypsy dances offer further elements of excitement to this exuberant movement.

Program notes by Robert Markow